A Spy of a Different Nature
by MeriSalope
Summary: Post Season 3, some foreshadowing to Season 4. Rated 'T' for language & violence. What happens when Amanda doesn't stay where Lee leaves her?
1. Chapter 1

**Title: '**A Spy of a Different Nature'

**Author: **MeriSalope

**Rating: M **(for language and violence)

**Disclaimer: **Scarecrow and Mrs. King is the property of Warner Brothers and Shoot-the-Moon Productions. I make no money from the story and no copyright infringement is intended.

**Credits: **References are made to the following episodes: 'Wrong Number', 'Murder Between Friends', 'Utopia Now', 'Welcome to America, Mr. Brand', 'Burn Out', 'DOA: Delirious on Arrival', 'Tail of the Dancing Weasel', 'A Class Act', 'The Weekend', 'We're Off to See the Wizard', 'There Goes the Neighborhood'

**Foreshadowed episodes**: 'Unfinished Business', 'Night Crawler'

**Additional Credits:** 'When You Say Nothing At All' written by Paul Overstreet & Don Schlitz

**Timeframe: **Season 3 post 'All the World's a Stage'

**Summary: ** What happens when Amanda doesn't stay where Lee leaves her.

**Author's Notes: **

No creative infringement is meant towards Jill Kelley and her 'Need to Know' story published on the IFF Film Library site. While Ms. Kelley posted her story several years before this one, I didn't discover it until I was quite deep into my own tale. After failing to reach Ms. Kelley via the provided email address, I chose to continue 'A Spy of a Different Nature' anyway. While there are common characters, this tale in no way mirrors hers.

A huge thank you to my fabulous editing team: Tearza & Liam! Without your input, I would've been lost. Another huge thank you to my extraordinary beta, eLynda! Lady, I don't think this would've ever been finished without you. Thank you so much for keeping me on track!

Additional notes to follow. Comments & critiques are welcomed. MS

***/***

**May 1986** (shortly after 'All the World's a Stage') Sunday night

"Ireland? Billy, are you sure? How the hell did Abernathy manage to get lost in Ireland on vacation? Yeah, yeah, all right. I'll get a bag together now. Have you already called Amanda? What? No I will not calm down! After all these years of pushing us together, now you want to split us up? Have you lost your mind, man?"

Scarecrow paced across his bedroom floor scowling at the phone while his section chief just kept piling it on. This night was going from bad to worse, and he didn't even have the pleasure of the obligatory basket for this particular excursion to Hell.

"He's being held by **_who_**? The IRA? Great, this just gets better and better. What are you going to tell me now... that this is also Zero Contact and a matter of national security? Billy, I was kidding, not trying to give you more ideas! I don't care whose nephew he is, I'm supposed to be on vacation, remember?"

His highly irritated boss held the phone from his ear while the man continued sputtering expletives across the line. Casting a glance over his shoulder, Billy saw Jeanie abandon the pretense she was still sleeping through what was growing into a very loud argument. There had once been a time when Scarecrow would have sprung cartwheels over the thought of leaving his plucky sidekick behind.

Fortunately, he didn't have to listen. There were times when it was a good thing to be the boss. This appeared to be one of them. His voice curt, he growled across the rant in his ear. "You're going. Alone. Tonight. Pull Abernathy out of whatever mess he's managed to find himself in, and get you both home. Preferably in one piece. Zero Contact, Scarecrow. See you in a few days."

The phone clicked in his ear, leaving Lee staring out the window in steaming fury. Bloody Abernathy! First feeding Francine to the Libyans, now playing Russian roulette with the damned Provisional Irish Republican Army! What was he going to do next, invite Castro bloody shark fishing?

Continuing to rave as he threw a bag together, he made sure there was nothing orange or green in his clothing choices. Bloody hell!

*/*

A sudden temperature drop had turned the evening's rain into a thick fog. Carefully navigating the quiet streets, Lee turned onto Maplewood Drive and parked in front of his partner's house. Maybe she could take her mother...

Running a hand through his very tousled hair, he exited the 'Vette and crept up the front walk carrying a delicate rosy lily. No lights. Not surprising since it was after midnight on a school night but he'd hoped. Good thing about the fog, though. No one would see him sneaking in to wake up his partner, and maybe steal a few warm sleepy kisses.

He made quick work of the lock, with a mental note to admonish her yet again about her shoddy security, and was up the stairs in mere seconds. Of course she'd be disappointed. Maybe the Pavarotti tickets would sweeten the blow since his chances of being back by Wednesday's curtain were pretty slim. He was fairly positive Dotty would be thrilled by her unexpected windfall, because Amanda had better not plan on taking Joe!

He paused in the doorway, drinking in her sweetly sleeping face for a few moments. They'd come so far this year. They'd always worked well together, even he admitted that back in the days when he was fighting to get away from her, but now... now it was like magic. They were even finishing each other's sentences most times. They had a good solid partnership, with the very real promise of becoming even more. She was so different from every other woman he'd ever known, and he knew now she was the one for whom he'd been unconsciously searching. Creeping closer to her bed, he lightly dragged the lily down the side of her delicate cheek.

With a grin, he quickly swallowed a soft chuckle when she promptly rolled over in annoyance. His Amanda wasn't one to waken easily. He leaned over to press a soft kiss against her tender lips, then left a red envelope on the empty pillow he wished was his. In a sigh, his name escaped her mouth as she cuddled her pillow closer. He closed his eyes for a moment, committing this scene to memory. It might be a while before he returned, and he knew this moment would keep him warm while he was gone.

"Dream sweet, my Amanda. I'll see you soon," he whispered before slipping away as silently as he'd appeared.

*/*

Her eyes opened slowly, an intoxicating sweet smell in her nose. Lying on the pillow was an elegant lily lightly touched with soft rose. Two months ago the sight would have made her very nervous, now it made her deliciously warm. Drawing the delicate bloom to her nose, she searched the shadows for her not-so-secret admirer. Her brow furled lightly as she took in the emptiness of her bedroom. With a soft click, she turned on the bedside lamp to reveal a red envelope also lying on the empty pillow. The same pillow she wanted so badly for a very familiar tawny head to rest upon. What was he up to now? Faintly she heard a powerful engine purr down the street and fade into the distance.

_'Manda,_

_Abernathy managed to get lost down the wrong back alley in Dublin and is currently guesting with a rather unpleasant host. When you read this, I'll be heading over to rescue his scrawny ass. Since it's a rescue op, I'm under Zero Contact, but should be back very soon. Hope your mother enjoys the show. You really need to get Leatherneck over to give you better locks._

_Lee_

A pair of balcony seats for Luciano Pavarotti fell into her lap while she closed her eyes. Abernathy!

*/*

Less than an hour later found Scarecrow on the Agency's private jet, streaking east over the Atlantic. Bloody Abernathy!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Monday

She leaned back against the counter, cradling her coffee cup protectively as the boys tore through the kitchen. Lunches stuffed in grabbed bags, greetings shouted, and they were gone with a thunder of adolescent exuberance. Exchanging a wry look with Dotty, Amanda just shook her head. Summer break was in sight and the boys were very eager for it to arrive. She was too, to be honest. Warm weather made her double life easier to conceal. It was such a pain to keep the walk shoveled so Lee's footprints didn't show up in the morning light!

Finishing off her morning fuel, the trim brunette dropped a kiss on her mother's cheek and headed out the door as well. Lee in Dublin (drat you, Abernathy!) didn't mean she still didn't have work to do in the Q. At least there was always the paperwork.

*/*

Billy Melrose leaned back in his chair, mentally patting himself on the back._ The best thing about this partnership is the fact Amanda is still civilian auxiliary. Moving the pair of them to the Q was pure genius, with the disaster Crawford had left behind. Between her organizational skills and his ambition, they've completely turned that mess around in a very short amount of time. Not to mention, they've been available to pick up some extremely hot cases and solve a few paper trail mysteries besides. Yes indeed, it was a very good day that brought Mrs. King into our fold. It doesn't hurt that she can translate his hieroglyphics either. She took to the computer like a duck to water, too... which makes her perfect for this!_

Why he hadn't immediately thought of Amanda King for this assignment? She was ready to fly solo, no matter what Scarecrow thought. With him out of the country for a few days, she can get this done and he'd never be the wiser. _Excellent idea, Melrose! Pure genius!_

Billy looked out his office window and grinned at the sight of Amanda entering the bullpen with a large white bakery box. _She'll be swarmed in no time_, the chief thought. He gave a short laugh as the men immediately glanced towards the hall, searching for her tall lanky shadow in gray. It was becoming a given where one found Amanda, one lately found a much more relaxed and easy Lee in fairly close proximity. Not today, though. He wondered how long it would take the gossip mill to churn out the fact he was on a top-secret assignment out of the country... leaving the hen house unattended.

He went to the door, watching as the graceful brunette maneuvered her way over to the bank of filing cabinets. A few of his bravest trailed after her, using the cover of fresh coffee. He certainly hoped they were less conspicuous in the field! There went Fielder. Wonder if Lee's going to have another chat with him when he gets back. That man will never learn.

"Amanda. May I see you in my office, please?"

"Of course, sir. Excuse me, Fred. Just let me get this piece for Mr. Melrose. He always has liked my poppy seed cake."

Leaving the jackals behind, the oblivious Amanda brought the cake along with a steaming cup of coffee into the chief's office and settled into her usual chair. She felt a brief pang of loss at the empty one beside her, but pushed it away firmly. 'It's his job, Amanda. You can't go with him every time!' It didn't make it any easier when her internal voice argued back the fact she wasn't there to watch his back either.

"Lee's on assignment out of the country, should be back in a few days. Came up rather suddenly last night, and he probably didn't get a chance to leave you a note in the Q."

"Yes sir. I was wondering where he'd gotten to this morning. He's been so much better about making it on time lately." She deliberately neglected telling Billy about the late night visit, wondering instead what he would share.

"Yes, well... he should be back soon. In the meantime, I have something for which you are uniquely suited. How do you feel about a short trip out of town? Just for a day, two at the most."

"Just let me know where and when, sir."

He passed a file over, continuing to speak while she flipped through it. "There is a meet in Michigan between a pair of computer jockeys. Nothing dangerous, just a bit curious. The President believes computers will be far more important than people realize, and likes to be kept abreast of what's going on. All you need to do is pay attention, listen to what's being discussed. You'll be going in as a temporary secretary. Any questions?"

"Just one, Mr. Melrose, why aren't they bringing in their own people? Won't it be rather obvious that I'm an outsider?"

"That's the beauty of it, Amanda. They aren't bringing in anyone, and have already sent the request out to the local agencies. You'll be leaving this afternoon. It can still be rather chilly in the evenings there, so make sure you pack accordingly."

Amanda scanned over the pages quickly, the names were vaguely familiar to her but she couldn't recall why. Steve Jobs and Bill Gates. She wracked her brain for a moment before remembering a research paper Jamie had written the year before. Something about Microsoft, and hadn't Jobs previously worked on the Macintosh project? The dossier was reflecting a company called NeXT. Didn't seem like a very wise move to her. Everyone knew that Apple IIe was the way to go. She was hoping to purchase one herself; the boys would love it. Where was the meet? Mackinac Island? Where was that?

"Mackinac Island, sir?"

"O, and Amanda, bring me back some fudge, will you?"

*/*

Her suitcase on the bed behind her, Amanda was trying to pack as quickly as possible. Frequently tripping over her mother wasn't helping matters much.

"Isn't that where they filmed 'Somewhere in Time'? I just loved that movie. It's so romantic. Christopher Reeve plays such a dashing role. Did you know the President has stayed there?"

"No Mother, that was the Grand Hotel, I believe. I'll be staying at the Ojibwe. It's supposed to be right on the beach. However, I was told there are tours of the Grand; if I have time, I'll be sure to take lots of pictures. It's going to be a very busy few days."

"Yes, yes, I know. I just don't understand how come these things aren't organized better. They never seem to give you any sort of notice. What if you had plans? Which, of course, you do thanks to your luck at the raffle. Box seats for Pavarotti, imagine that. I don't have a thing to wear."

"I know it's last minute, Mother. You know how these things are, you never know where the next documentary might be filmed. It's supposed to be a beautiful place. Did you know everyone gets around on bicycles and horses?" Her voice was muffled inside the closet as she carefully chose her wardrobe.

"You'd better pack some antihistamines then. When will you be back?"

"It's just a few days, probably no later than Wednesday afternoon. I should be back in plenty of time to make it to the theater. Just in case, the tickets are on my bureau. You may have to leave mine at the box office. Did you make the arrangements for the boys to go to the Lightners?"

"Of course, Margie was thrilled. She is planning on putting them in tents in the backyard. It's just a good thing they don't have school on Thursday. Amanda, don't take that blouse; that shade of lavender washes you out, dear. Try this nice red one instead. O yes, much better. I don't know how you will ever attract the attention of a nice man by wearing such drab colors all the time."

The memory of an elegant lily on her pillow made her smile, but she just shook her head in Dotty's direction. Mother had to meddle, it was her way.

*/*

Two hours later found her comfortably settled in the business section and jetting northwest to Tri-City Airport, just outside of Saginaw, Michigan. From there, she would catch a puddle-jump from a borrowed pilot out of Wurtsmith to Kincheloe Air Force Base, before driving about an hour down to St. Ignace. One more leg of her journey remained after that, she'd take the ferry across Lake Huron to the tiny tourist village on an island time forgot. A lengthy trip for sure. This was going to be a very long week.

*/*

As the small jet circled for its approach, Lee glanced down to adjust his watch. Per Washington time, it was just after 8 a.m. The sun shining down on the tarmac didn't agree though, and neither would the clocks about town. He quickly adjusted the settings, more than ready to hit the ground running. Or searching, as the case certainly was. Just call him the Agency bloodhound, him and Rin Tin Tin. It was just after 1, Abernathy had gone missing about 48 hours ago. He could be anywhere.

An agent gone missing was always a bad thing, no matter who it was. Abernathy, much to Lee's disgust, was a special case though. He was special all right! Bob Abernathy was the favorite nephew of the Secretary of the Interior, which made him now Lee's problem. There would be words though. There would be many words.

Dragging his hand through his hair for the umpteenth time, he willed his mind to that spot where everything was distant. He needed to be sharp as he wasn't certain what he'd be walking into. Billy wasn't exactly positive, and being under Zero Contact, Scarecrow wouldn't find out any new information until after he'd dragged the bastard back to the States. Bloody Abernathy!

*/*

Amanda stumbled into the lobby of the luxurious spa, too tired to enjoy the magnificent view she knew would stun her. After almost nine hours of plane travel, not to mention the harrowing trip across the lake, she was just plain exhausted. She approached the concierge and mumbled her name, barely able to recall the correct one. "Good evening, my name is Miranda Keene, I believe you are expecting me."

"Ah, yes, Ms. Keene. It's a shame about your flight, and please accept my apologies for the rough trip over. We rarely have such rough waters in May. You are in room 23. Here is your passkey. Mr. Jobs said the meeting will start at exactly 9 a.m., in Conference Room C. Your luggage has already been taken up."

She gratefully took the key, making her weary way in the indicated direction. It was now 11 p.m., she'd been traveling steadily since 1. Lunch had been a long time ago, but quite frankly, she was just too tired to eat. All she wanted to do was sit down on something not moving, kick off her shoes, and sink into Lee's strong arms... and not necessarily in that order!

As she walked into the room, she gave a half-hearted shrug. Well, two out of three wasn't bad. It could be worse, she supposed... although at the moment she couldn't quite focus long enough to figure out how.

Seeing her bags neatly stacked against the foot of her bed, all she wanted to do was climb into her nightgown and curl up. Of course she couldn't because then she'd be a rumpled mess in the morning, which was no way to present herself. She exhaled slowly and then made short work of the task. Once she was finished, Amanda placed three phone calls.

The first was to the switchboard at the bullpen, her check-in. She'd make the next one in the morning before meeting with Jobs and Gates. The second was to her mother to assure her she had indeed made it to the wilds of Northern Michigan; the third wasn't really a call. She just wanted to hear his voice. Silly of her, she supposed, but she was missing him tonight. She called the empty apartment and listened to him tell her he wasn't available at the moment. She debated leaving a message, but decided it would sound too much like a clinging girlfriend, hanging up the phone instead. She'd be home long before he would be anyway. Maybe a shower would make her feel better.

After a lengthy shower, Amanda was finally feeling something akin to human again. She deliberately didn't think about her return trip. After the day she'd had, the last thing she wanted to contemplate was getting on another darn airplane. She wasn't much of a fan as it was.

Sagging into her bed, all her drained body wanted was to fall asleep. Unfortunately, her frazzled brain wasn't exactly in agreement as she stared up at the ceiling, praying he was okay. It was foolish, she knew it was. Didn't matter though because she really hated the fact they were apart. Lee never paid quite close enough attention to suit her. He forgot the little details... like taking the keys out of the ignition.

She slowly built the image of his face in her mind, tracing each feature with a gentle finger. His strong stubborn jaw, with the merest hint of a dimple; the deep dimples creasing his cheeks when he grinned; his lips... o his lips. She could write volumes about those lips. She'd fantasized enough about them over the years.

When she got to his eyes, she just stopped and tried to remember how to breathe. Lee's eyes were mesmerizing to her. They said so much, and hid even more. The way the green just took over when he looked at her... yeah, when he looked at her just like that. Holding those eyes in her mind, and in her heart, she finally drifted off to sleep... the elusive scent of a lily distantly teasing her nose.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Tuesday

The alarm shrilled far earlier than she wanted, needed or desired. The last thing she wanted to do was get out of the comfortable bed and go take notes while two grown men mumbled back and forth about silly computer games. Blinking her tired eyes awake, she took in the cheerful decor of her room quietly.

Light streamed in the window, warming her face. The walls were a charming shade of sunny lemon and were the perfect contrast to the thick navy carpet. It was surprisingly feminine considering the nautical theme. Delicate lace curtains fluttered in a breeze redolent with the scent of lilacs. Taking a deep breath, she smiled for a moment. It was a treat to smell the short blooming bushes again. In Virginia they'd been in season a month ago, and were now done until next spring.

She knew she would be painting a mental picture of this for Mother because taking photographs just wouldn't do it justice. Even still, there would be many pictures taken, although how many would actually make it into her personal photo album would remain to be seen. It might sound odd to some, but she took pictures every time she traveled for the Agency. When Lee had laughed at her during their rescue of Dr. Tucker, she had explained it was more to extend the cover for IFF's documentaries than anything else. She rather thought he'd accepted the reasoning more as a way to avoid another of their famous discussions than an agreement about the logic of it. Regardless, she did it for her own memories, and one never knew when the pictures might come in handy for the case at hand. But, she wouldn't be taking them right now. A glance at her travel clock showed it was rapidly approaching 7, and she'd not even begun to get ready.

Sighing with resignation, she dragged herself from the cozy sheets and stumbled towards the shower. That should get her going.

Hopefully...

*/*

An hour later found her in a small dining nook, filling out postcards for her family while she sipped on a steaming cup of coffee. She looked up to smile at the waitress when she delivered a plate mounded with eggs, toast, and bacon. She laughed to herself, cast any thoughts of her waistline behind and dove in. Since she'd missed dinner the night before, she was starving this morning. Not surprisingly, she finished everything on her plate. She nodded politely when she saw Mr. Jobs walk in, but cautioned herself to remember he too was operating under an alias.

Both of the men were, actually. What were those names again? She'd left the dossier in her room, not wanting to be caught with anything vital which might compromise her own identity. Right, it was Joe Maxwell, and Gates was going by George Benson. She couldn't forget those names. Something tingled in her memory about the aliases.

As she wasn't supposed to know her employers, although they had requested a picture of her when the Agency had sent over her amended resume, she walked past his table and moved towards the reception desk in the lobby. Her eyes drank in the sight of the luxurious decor. Hopefully there would be time later to explore.

"Hello, my name is Miranda Keene. Could you direct me to Conference Room C, please?"

"Good morning Ms. Keene, welcome to the Ojibwe. Conference Room C is on the left down this hallway. Please enjoy your stay."

"Thank you, I'm sure I will. Have a nice day." With that, Amanda made her way to meet the men the President was so very curious about. She had to admit, considering the secrecy, she was growing rather curious about them herself.

Upon reaching the room, she settled her pad and pencil next to a tape recorder. The men quickly followed suit. When they looked at the recorder in askance, she quietly explained it would be best if she took notes by hand for the first hour, and then recorded on a series of tapes for the rest of the meeting. This way, they both would have complete copies of everything by day's end. Agreeing her logic was a sensible solution, the men settled in to discuss the future of their chosen industry.

An hour and two pots of coffee later, Amanda's opinion of the meeting hadn't changed in the least. She understood English, she really did, and she understood that the words they were using were tacitly English, but they sure didn't sound like anything she understood. She dutifully took down every word as the men spoke, her pencil flying across the page as she struggled to keep up. Hopefully there would be someone back at the Agency who could make any sort of sense out of it all. If they were depending on her to understand, national security was in far more trouble than she could fix!

She switched on the tape recorder, gathered her notebook and took herself to the edge of the room to type. From here on out, she would be transcribing from first her notes and then the tapes, much like her early work at the Agency. The men spoke freely, continuing to use terminology she didn't understand as they plotted out the course of something called a 'world wide web'. She wondered briefly if what they were discussing could possibly involve national security but couldn't see how. Particularly as they both seemed to be very excited about an all new openness of information exchange around the globe.

Finally lunch was brought in, and Amanda excused herself to wash her hands. She'd needed to change the ribbon on the typewriter once and the correction tape twice. She was a bit surprised to be using a typewriter rather than a computer, considering the livelihoods of the gentlemen involved.

Deciding to go to her room, Amanda used the opportunity to make her next check-in. This time she spoke with Francine, and relayed her thoughts as to how the meeting was progressing while she stuffed the first ribbon reel in the toe of her tennis shoe. After exchanging brief pleasantries, she hurried back to hastily swallow a cup of cold coffee. It seemed lunch was chicken salad sandwiches, which she refused stating she'd had a large breakfast. Ever since she'd eaten the poisoned sandwich meant for Lee, chicken salad just didn't sit with her very well.

Around 4, the men suddenly reached some sort of an accord. Even though Amanda had been right there the entire time, and had even taken down every word they'd said, she couldn't see where or why it happened. As they gathered up the minutes she'd already typed, Amanda slipped the used ink reels into her purse. It was the best way she could think of to retrieve the information for the boys in Crypto.

Once she finished typing up the last of the meeting, she stopped by both men's rooms to deliver their copies. Not surprisingly, Gates insisted on having the cassettes as well. She surrendered them calmly, very glad she had already secreted away the typewriter carbons from the afternoon. She'd even thought to put the original one back in, just in case it was demanded as well. To further cover her tracks she'd retyped the last pages with it in case they felt the need to check.

Then, her duties done for the day, she set out to explore the charming village through the lens of her camera. And buy Billy's fudge.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Tuesday night

Lee sat in the bar, looking at Abernathy and shaking his head. "How did you manage to do this one? You just have to tell me, how the hell did you manage to get involved with the godforsaken IRA? And the youngest grandchild of the British Prime Minister, no less?"

"Well, it wasn't exactly easy. See, there was this girl, and-"

Lee held up his hand. "Stop. Just stop right there. I really don't want to know. I don't have to know. Just tell me this: is the ass-chewing you're about to receive worth the woman?"

Abernathy merely grinned and took another swallow of his Guinness.

Lee just shook his head. Damn puppy. Bloody Abernathy!

"Drink up, pal. We're heading back within the hour. I can't wait to see what Billy is going to have to say about this stunt. You have got to be the luckiest bastard in the free world tonight."

*/*

Bloody hell, he was tired. The last time Lee had done a double trans-Atlantic flight in less than two days was back during his rookie year with Emily. He'd learned a lot, but sure hadn't gotten much sleep then either. He was a lot younger then, too. Hell, he may have even been as young as Abernathy! Emily Farnsworth, now she was a lady, and literally, too. She'd been far less than impressed with his 'gutter-talk' as she termed it. He'd adapted to 'bloody', although it still wasn't as viscerally satisfying as the f-word he'd learned growing up in the barracks..

He stretched back settling his weight in the seat of the plane, brooding out the window. The deep midnight sky, sparkling with a thousand stars, looked back dispassionately. The mysteries of the ages, deeper than any reality, it was like getting lost in the deep espresso gaze of the woman he'd left sleeping almost 48 hours before, an ocean away. He sighed for a moment, recalling the mental picture he'd taken two nights before. She was there, lying so peaceful and gentle in the dark, ebony lashes fanned over tender cheeks.

He'd watched her sleep before, during the myriad times they'd shared quarters over the years, but never like this. Creeping into her room for the sole purpose of whispering good night to his partner was far different from working a case.

Admit it, Stetson, you love her. This isn't a partner situation. This is the woman you love. The first woman you would be proud to bring home to meet your mother. This is the woman you want to bear your child.

Wait... what? Child? His heart pounded while a cold sweat beaded his furrowed brow. Where did that come from? They weren't even to the point of sleeping together, and you're thinking children? Slow down, Stetson, you've just barely kissed her!

While his hands trembled, he saw something else... something unexpected. A little girl, with his father's eyes and Amanda's long tumbling curls, tied up in tiny red bows, dragging a beat up stuffed puppy. He could almost touch her, feel the weight of her tiny body in his arms.

Scrubbing his hands across his eyes, he shoved the image out of his head. Did he want to marry Amanda? That was a very serious question, one which required a long and hard look at their lives, their career... their future.

He certainly couldn't imagine his life without her. Not now. Now that he'd kissed her, held her the way she deserved to be held. He just couldn't bear to contemplate any sort of a future she didn't share.

But, was it fair? He didn't exactly live a quiet normal life, after all. Hell, he wasn't even sure what that might mean. Any chance at normal had flown over the cliff, just like his parents had when he was five. He didn't have the first idea how to go about being normal. For her, he'd be willing to try, though. For her, he'd crawl through Hell and count the price light. Dorothy and Eva had been mere practice runs compared to her. Stetson, quit trying to fool yourself, there was no one in the world who could ever measure up to 'Manda. What was it he'd told Harry? O yeah, he'd 'follow her blind through a blizzard at midnight', and she'd bring him home safe every time.

He thought back over the past three years, all the family moments he'd stolen from the kitchen window. Projects and dinners, parties, reunions, tears and punishments, joys and celebrations, he'd witnessed them all. He could almost feel the warmth of Dotty's hugs around his waist. He longed to be a part of their world, even though it terrified him. He wanted it like a bear wanted honey. No, it went beyond want, even beyond need. He craved and yearned for it. He was so damn tired of being alone.

With Amanda, he was never alone. She wouldn't ever leave him, not willingly. Nor could he let her, not again. When she took the job with what's-his-face last year, it almost killed him. It was worse than losing Dorothy, not that he'd told her. Almost like everything good and right had disappeared from his world. But, even without telling her, he knew she knew. Of course she knew. She was his Amanda. She knew everything, without ever needing to hear a word. An old song trailed across his mind, shaking him to the core. "The smile on your face lets me know that you need me; there's a truth in your eyes saying you'll never leave me. The touch of your hand says you'll catch me if ever I fall. But you say it best, when you say nothing at all."

Yeah... that about summed it up. Truer words had never been written. Amanda meant everything to him; she was his all.

A slight smile curved his lips; at least he would be home in time to take her to Pavarotti. Sliding his hand into his pocket, the consummate loner toyed idly with a golden solitaire. It was the same ring he'd slid on her long delicate finger in the course of duty a few different times. The first time it had been by complete mischance. The diamond Leatherneck had issued them for the Bouchard case wasn't the same size as the wedding band, and there'd been no time to swap it for another ring. It was quicker to stop by the safety deposit box and pick up the one Jenny Stetson had on her finger the day she passed, or at least that's what he convinced himself to think. Considering the fact it fit so well (and looked so right on her finger!), he'd just continued to use it. It made sense, after all. Diamonds weren't supposed to molder away in a bank vault somewhere, right? He'd taken to carrying it with him lately... for some reason.

Lee stared out the window blindly, a dim reflection of her bright smile and sparkling eyes gleaming from the distant stars. When did it happen? When had the intrepid housewife from Arlington become the Scarecrow's personal rainbow? Maybe it was finally time for him to start looking into his parents' accident...

*/*

Camera slung around her neck, Amanda mingled with the tourist crowd as they explored the tiny village. It truly was like stepping back in time. She stifled yet another sneeze and gingerly sidestepped a fragrant souvenir from the passing carriage... sometimes a bit too much. Pausing to snap a happy family portrait, she noticed a man from the corner of her eye. There he was again. Odd.

Lilacs and confections scented the afternoon air, reminding her of Billy's request. He said he wanted fudge. From the number of candy shops, it was obviously a very popular purchase. She scanned windows while she moved with the flow of foot traffic. There was a crowd of children gathered before one particular shop window. She stepped closer and knew she had found the very place. "Looks tasty, doesn't it? Almost like stepping into Willie Wonka's world."

The tall startled brunette looked up to cool blue eyes. She recognized the man vaguely. Someone from the hotel, she thought. Hadn't he been in the dining room this morning? She smiled with a nod, deliberately ignoring any double entendre. "Yes it is. And it smells heavenly."

They chatted for a moment about inconsequentials, as strangers do. They both agreed the weather was lovely and marveled briefly about how quiet it was without cars about. Taking her leave, she stepped into the shop alone to select her treat for the chief. Francine would appreciate a slice of the double chocolate as well. Perhaps a three-slice box for home?

Making arrangements to have the sweets delivered to her room, Amanda continued her wandering. It was growing a bit late; she would have to hurry if she wanted to investigate the hand-made lace. Mother's birthday was coming up, and Mrs. Marsden was always so difficult to shop for at the holidays. O, wouldn't Emily just love this? It was just perfect! Lady Farnsworth was another challenging one on Amanda's Christmas list. Pleased with her selections, she tucked the small packages into her purse and exited, walking right into the man from Murdick's Fudge. "O! I'm terribly sorry, please excuse me."

"Nonsense, it was obviously my fault. I was distracted by your beauty and wasn't paying attention to where I was going."

She flushed slightly and stepped out of his way. "As long as you're OK. I would feel horrible if I'd have hurt you."

"Not at all. Please, my name is Abe Markham." He extended his hand.

"Miranda Keene, nice to meet you." Their hands clasped for a moment, Amanda quickly concealing a flicker of distaste at the sweat on his palm. Discreetly brushing her hand over the side of her trousers, she nodded politely and moved in the direction of the glass shop. What a nice man, but he seems so nervous.

As soon as she saw it, she knew. Although Lee often flashed the devil-may-care grin of a pirate, she knew his heart. It had taken a lot of work on her part, and an incredible amount of fortitude, but the results were more than worth it. She carried the spun glass knight to the counter. He would love it!

Watching from the street, Markham waited for his quarry to finish her shopping. This wasn't the place, he knew that. It was far too exposed, and too many people about besides. Maybe he could invite her to dinner? Noticing the cashier wrapping something, he stepped back behind a tree. Wouldn't do to make her nervous, would it? He needed her to stay relaxed and calm. There was time for the fear... later.

More than satisfied with her afternoon's purchases, Amanda snapped a few more pictures from the sidewalk. Her mission was over except for the return trip and it had gone without a hitch. She even got some shopping done too. It sure was strange not to have Lee here though. _I wonder how he's doing with Abernathy. He wasn't very happy about having to go. I wish he'd have woken me Sunday night. I miss him so much._

Her stomach rumbled, reminding her she'd skipped yet another meal. Shopkeepers were closing their doors at the end of their business day, making her realize it was also growing late. She began to retrace her steps for the Ojibwe, intent on a sandwich when she again saw Abe Markham walking towards her. He sure was turning up an awful lot this afternoon.

"May I walk with you? My hotel is in this direction as well."

"That is very nice of you, Mr. Markham. It sure is beautiful here. Where are you staying?"

"The Ojibwe. It is my favorite place to stay when I'm in town."

"O, do you come here often?" They walked the quiet sidewalk towards the water-front.

"Every year, at the beginning of the season. My company services the cash registers for many of the businesses here on the island. Do you work at one of the hotels?"

"O no, I'm just a fudgie. I am scouting a location for a documentary on candy making." Amanda mentally patted herself on the back for her quick thinking, grateful yet again for the instant cover IFF provided. "My boss thinks this would be an interesting backdrop, with the movie and all."

_She's sharp_, he thought. _Not a word about the meeting earlier. She obviously knows how to keep her mouth shut. Maybe I won't have to hurt her after all._

Opening the door to the hotel, he ushered her through graciously. "Since this is your first time on the island, may I take you to dinner? They serve a mean steak here. Life on the road can be very lonely. "

Amanda smiled and expressed her appreciation of his kind offer. "Thank you but I can't. I have a long trip back tomorrow and have to get my notes in order for my report. I think I'll just order a sandwich from room-service and turn in for the night. It was very nice to meet you."

Leaving him in the lobby, she went to the reception desk to retrieve any messages and see if her fudge delivery had arrived. Something nagged at her briefly when she saw Markham stop to talk with the concierge but she couldn't put her finger on it.

*/*

Curled up comfortably on the bed, she called for the final check-in of the day. "Hi, Fred. This is Amanda. I will be heading out first thing in the morning, and following my itinerary from there. My next check-in will be before I board the plane in Saginaw. I should have about 45 minutes between flights, barring problems. Yes, it's a very tight schedule. Nope, everything went fine. I had no problems. All right, I'll see you Thursday. No, I don't need to talk to Mr. Melrose unless he needs to talk to me. He doesn't? See you then. No, muffins aren't likely to happen, but good try. You, too. Bye."

Pondering for a moment, she decided to make a call which wasn't expected. Rather than leaving the message at his home where it might get lost amongst the many, she dialed their machine at the Q. Waxing rhapsodic, she told him about the room, and the beauty of the island. Maybe someday in their future they could come back and explore together. She just knew it would be something he would also enjoy. Yes, things were quaint here, but it was so relaxing. He needed to slow down sometimes... and this might just be the perfect place! Sadly, she knew it wouldn't be happening any time soon. The travel arrangements were just too prohibitive.

She toyed with telling him about the man in the village. Something about Abe Markham didn't ring true. Putting it off as shadow shock due to this being her first solo she let it go, telling him instead she would see him soon... and he owed her a foot rub.

After leaving the long message, she dropped the receiver back in the cradle. Chances were very high he'd never hear it. There was no telling how long it would take to get Abernathy out of whatever mess he'd found in Ireland. She sure hoped he was OK!


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Wednesday

Lee debated for almost half a second about driving back to the Agency, then decided it would probably be best to hail a cab. He'd not had any real sleep since Saturday night, and the catnaps on the plane really hadn't done much. Abernathy didn't know it yet, but he was paying the fare. Once the debriefing was over, maybe he'd prevail on his lovely Amanda to bring him back for the 'Vette. Frankly, right now he was just too tired to even contemplate driving. His eyes held a tired twinkle - maybe he could convince her to tuck him in too.

*/*

Luggage draped over their shoulders, the exhausted travelers exchanged passwords with the gargoyle covering the night desk at the Georgetown entrance before getting their badges. Scarecrow was well aware of the fact he'd been wearing these clothes longer than God had been making puppies, thank you very much. Sometimes sleep was a little more important on a double trans-Atlantic flight than being a fashion plate. Glancing at Abernathy, he jerked his head up towards the Q and said curtly, "I'll be right back. Don't get started without me."

His bags dropped with a thud as he eyed the long leather couch in his office with very real hunger. God he was tired. He almost whimpered when he glanced at his watch, seeing the settings needed to be changed again. 6 a.m. At least Amanda would be popping in soon. Maybe she'd bring muffins. At the very least there was coffee. There just might be a God after all.

*/*

Amanda darted about the room, making sure everything was packed. She had a very tight itinerary today, and running late even by 10 minutes would blow it completely. Going over it again in her head, she knew she had to absolutely be on the dock by no later than 7:15 to catch the St. Ignace ferry. She doubted the Coast Guard would be understanding enough to give her a ride back to land, even though it had been mighty nice of them to bring her over Monday night. Good thing someone had thought to ask when they scheduled her trip, otherwise she'd have been stranded in St. Ignace. It was really kind of the Air Force to offer one of their pilots too. She didn't even want to think about all the favors someone must've called in to arrange it all. She certainly hoped what she was bringing back would be worth it.

Then came the hour drive back up to the AF base. From there, it was her previous trip in reverse. The carry-on bag needed to be packed very carefully not to crush her suit for the concert. Changing in the plane's lavatory would be an adventure but also the absolute only way she'd make curtain. It was so like Lee to surprise her with the tickets. He knew how much she loved Pavarotti. She'd been a bit disappointed to miss his performance for the President last fall. Why couldn't Abernathy have gotten lost next week?

Billy would surely understand her going straight to the Kennedy Center from Dulles. Since it was basically a milk run, she was fairly positive her debriefing could wait until tomorrow. What would another few hours hurt, right? It's not like it was national security or anything. The President was merely curious about a lot of computer babble.

Pausing for a moment, she punched her calling card into the phone, dialing home. "Good morning, Mother. Yes. I am leaving shortly. There won't be time to make it home before, so I'll have to meet you there. Can you have my ticket waiting at the box office? Yes, I'll definitely make the curtain call. I promise. I love you too. Tell the boys I miss them and I'll see them soon. OK, Mother, bye."

Glancing about as a final check, Amanda gathered her things and walked out the door... and right into the snub nose of Markham's revolver.

Amanda swallowed, her eyes wide as she looked up into the cold blue eyes of the man who had tried to take her to dinner the night before. How could this be happening again? He used the gun to indicate a direction down the hall. She looked, then quickly glanced the other way, hoping to see someone anyone in the hall with her to use as a distraction. They were completely alone...

"Mr. Markham," she began quietly. She shifted her bags around in what she hoped looked like nervous fretting, trying to position them to be of the most use. Her mind raced, examining and discarding solutions. "Why are you holding a gun on me?"

"Shut up and move. If you do what I tell you, no one will get hurt!"

For some reason, Amanda just didn't believe him. Maybe it had something to do with the gun he was pointing at her. When he glanced up the hall to ensure they were still alone, she threw her bags at him. The hard sided suitcase hit him in the knees as she sprinted towards the lobby, clutching her purse. She knew he wouldn't dare shoot her because it would draw exactly the attention he didn't seem to want. Amanda fled down the hall, her feet pounding on the carpet, holding her purse tight to her chest. Her luggage could be left. Yes, she needed it, but it wasn't vital. The reels were in her purse... and they were truly all that mattered.

She could hear him behind her, every step was drawing closer as she ran. Taking deep, even breaths she stretched her long legs, finding speed from somewhere. She had the odd thought as she ran, _How strange not to be dragged by Lee. I really need to start running more!_

Lee was never going to let her hear the end of this one. Thoughts crowded her head: this milk run had nothing to do with any foreign governments. Who was Markham and what was he after? He must be yet another card-carrying member of the 'Get Scarecrow' fan club! It sure seemed to be a popular group. Why did they always seem to come after her when Lee was out of the country?

She skidded around a corner, knowing the lobby was at the end of this hall. The lobby meant people, even if it was only the desk clerk. She had a chance. Freedom was in...

Tripping over the lip of the step up, she flew forward sprawling full length on the carpet. Her chance was gone... and she was going to miss the ferry. When she looked up, Abe Markham loomed over her panting for breath... and pointing the gun at her head. Amanda was well and truly caught.

He grabbed her arm roughly, hauling her up with a breathless curse. Not giving her a chance to get her feet under her, the enraged man dragged his captive back down the hall, covering her mouth with his gun hand. Ms. Keene was a bit trickier than he'd been prepared for. He would definitely have to watch her closely.

She stumbled along, tripping over her feet and his. Managing to tangle her right foot between his, she tossed her head back to connect with his chin. It only succeeded in bringing them both to a lurching stop. He wasn't amused. Tightening his grip on her cheeks which forced the cold revolver into her open mouth he growled in her ear, "Ms. Keene, you are going to be very unhappy before we're done chatting. It didn't have to be this way."

The last thing she knew, after he thrust her in a dark room was the sharp blow of his gun across her temple. She sank down on the carpet helplessly, a ridiculous thought chasing into oblivion._ I am going to miss Pavarotti! How will I explain this one to Mother?_

*/*

The debriefing dragged on for years. He was fairly positive they were coming up on the decade mark. Cutting a quick glance to his wrist, he scrubbed his hand over his rough jaw and wondered if she had in fact brought in muffins. She was always bringing in something to share. He hoped the jackals in the bullpen hadn't eaten everything although it was a futile one. Fresh baked goods didn't ever last long around this place, particularly not Amanda's. That's odd, why does Billy look so guilty?

*/*

Finally released, feeling very much like a kid greeting the first day of summer break, Lee cast poor ol' Abernathy a sympathetic look and fled the conference room. He wanted Food, Amanda, and Sleep, but not necessarily in that order. He grinned, _Better get some sleep before the concert tonight, Amanda will never forgive me if I start snoring during the cavatina._

Glancing over his shoulder, he called back to Billy. "I left my car at the airport, I'm gonna have Amanda take me to go pick it up before falling in bed for the rest of my 'vacation'. Between the two of us, you'll have your report by morning."

Francine raised her brow and Billy tried to hide his guilt as he moved quickly to follow the weary man. This wasn't the way this conversation was supposed to go down. He was supposed to be relaxed ... gloating behind his desk, reveling in his cunning... not admitting defeat. "Scarecrow, my office."

"Billy, can't it wait? I'm exhausted. My body isn't even sure what time zone it's in right now."

"This won't take very long."

*/*

"She's _**what**_?" The glass between the office and the bullpen actually rattled when Lee slammed his fist into the center of Billy's desk. "You sent _**Amanda**_ 800 miles away undercover without any back up? Into a situation the _**President**_ finds curious? How late is she?"

"Now, Lee, Aman-"

"How! Late!" Lee's jaw was clenched so tight that the white of the bone shone through his skin.

"Officially she hasn't missed her check-in. However, she never arrived at Kincheloe, and her rental car is still sitting at the dock," was the quiet reply. "No one has heard from her since she spoke with Fielder last night."

Glaring coldly at his boss, the enraged man ripped open the door and roared across the silent room for the white-faced Fielder. Not saying another word, he waited impatiently for the last person in the Agency who had talked to the missing Mrs. King.

*/*

Hurling himself out of the elevator, leaving coats scattered ruthlessly, Scarecrow thundered up the stairs to retrieve his luggage. Mrs. Marsden stared after him utterly dumbfounded. The office door crashing behind him, he was reaching for the bags when he noticed the message light blinking on his phone. Initially dismissing it, he took a moment he didn't have to jab the offensive button. It was probably nothing important. He paced around both desks as the voices began. One from Augie, babbling about something he really didn't care about at this exact moment; Gillian was next, God couldn't the woman take a hint? The last one stopped him in his tracks in disbelief. Amanda!

Bag dropping on the floor, he sank into his chair bonelessly.

Her husky voice washed over him. He had to smile as she went into full-on ramble mode, her words tumbling over themselves on the tape. The scene she was painting was almost as lovely as the woman herself. His smile faded soon as her voice seemed to catch for a moment. He knew that sound all too well. Something was working in her very fertile brain, but she wasn't ready to share it yet. She'd noticed something that didn't sit well with her. "O Amanda, what did you stumble onto this time? Damn you, Abernathy! I should've been here, not chasing after your philandering ass in Ireland!"

He popped the tape out before it had a chance to reset and tucked it in his breast pocket. Billy better roust a pilot from somewhere. The Scarecrow was going to find his Mrs. King. Fortunately for Abernathy's teeth, he was still being debriefed by Francine.

*/*

"Lee, be serious man! You have been running on nothing but pure adrenaline and caffeine for over two days. You'll get both of yourselves killed if you do this. Everyone has their ear to the ground on this one, and no one's talking. We don't even know that anything's happened yet. Did you listen to that tape? She told you there's nothing wrong! She told Fielding nothing was wrong. You can't fly out of here half-cocked. Don't make me order you to stand down. She's only an hour late! Are you _listening_ to me? How much trouble could she possibly get into in Michigan?"

Lee merely arched a sardonic brow as he paced. How much trouble could Amanda get into? Was **he** listening to himself? This was Amanda King they were talking about.

"Billy, I know her. She found something, she just doesn't know what it is that she found. I can sleep on the damn plane; it's a good eight hour flight from here to Kincheloe. This isn't like Abernathy, dammit. Amanda is anal about following the rules. She's had Francine throw the damn book in her face too many times not to be! She's not trained to handle anything like this, and you damn well know it!"

"Let Thornsworth go. He's a good man. You're too close to this one, Lee. He can find Amanda, and you can get some damn sleep. That's all you wanted when you got out of the debriefing, remember? To get some sleep?"

"Fine, I'll take Thornsworth _with _me. But I'm going. I'm on vacation, remember? No reason I can't spend it on Mackinac Island. Silly to buy a ticket and stand around Dulles when the jet is heading there already anyway, right?"

"Stetson..."

"Billy," Lee's voice grew intensely quiet. Every word was slow and measured, like they were being forced through his teeth. "Amanda has box seats for the Kennedy Center tonight. Pavarotti takes the stage at 7.30. She wouldn't miss him for love nor money, not again. Something has happened. You know her, she doesn't miss deadlines. You heard Fielder, she was very precise about maintaining her itinerary. She emphasized how tight it was. She wouldn't have missed that ferry, Billy. She stumbled onto something. _She's my partner, and she's in over her head. __**I'm going. End of story**_."

"Thornsworth is waiting in the motor pool," was Billy's growled reply. Even Billy remembered how upset Amanda had been over missing the Presidential performance last fall. There was definitely something wrong.

They were in the air by noon, arrowing north by northwest. 'Hold on Amanda, I'm coming.'


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

She opened her eyes slowly, groaning from the sharp pain in her head. She knew what it meant, of course. How could she not? Once again, she was being snagged for something Lee must've done. But how on earth did they know she was in Michigan? She hadn't noticed anyone following her... well, other than Markham. She wondered how long it would be before someone contacted Billy.

Amanda tried to put her hand on her head to check the damage, and then realized the rest of the lovely news. She was tied up. Of course she was... the 'Get Scarecrow' fan club knew all the tricks. For a brief crazy moment, she wondered what the fan club discussed at their annual meetings. The image of a boardroom filled with various faces from previous cases with a pictures of Lee and herself plastered on the walls danced ridiculously across her throbbing brain. Maybe they used the old Cyclops headquarters? Did they pay dues?

She tried to roll to her side and discovered there was no moving. She was well and truly caught, with her wrists bound in a manner where she couldn't get her fingers down to her wrist watch. The same watch Leatherneck had only just returned last week. For emergencies, he'd said... just in case. Great Amanda, how are you gonna get out of this mess? She really needed to get some training if this was going to keep happening.

She deliberately didn't think of the concert she was going to miss. Nope, not gonna think about it. Darn it! How could this happen again? Pavarotti!

The way she was situated made it next to impossible to see out the window, and with her wrists bound to her ankles, there was no way she could possibly check her watch. The last thing she knew, it was 6.30. She had been leaving with more than enough time to make the dock. Until she saw Markham, that was.

The door opened quietly, and Markham slipped in wondering if she had regained consciousness yet. She was right where he left her. Not surprising. It would've taken a miracle for her to escape this time. There wasn't going to be another opportunity if he could help it. She was a lovely woman, it was too bad. He definitely wasn't going to enjoy this. It was necessary, however. He needed to know what was said at that meeting.

Nodding to himself, he walked over to the side of the bed and looked down on her. She looked up sharply when his shadow fell across her face. Fiery eyes spitting daggers, she could do nothing more than lie there and wait to see what he was going to do with her now. She sure hoped he wasn't planning on selling her.

He reached out, looking slightly green, and pulled the gag from her mouth. She rotated her jaw immediately and began to swallow. This, like the ropes and the knot on her head, was getting to be old hat. She knew she had to have moisture in her mouth to be able to talk... and they always wanted her to talk.

"Water," she croaked.

A brief shadow of concern crossed his patrician features before he nodded simply and stepped over to the tiny sink. Then, cup in hand, he looked at her with consternation. How was he to give her a drink with her bound the way she was? Amanda didn't know either, and because of the same problem, she couldn't even shrug to show she was at a loss as well. Markham nodded, slid his free hand under her head and slightly propped her up, pressing the cup to her parched mouth in a smooth motion.

Amanda swallowed, once then twice. Water dribbled down her face and off the tip of her chin, but at least her mouth wasn't as dry as it had been. He confused her. Judging by the hesitation on his face, he definitely wasn't her usual sort of captor. What on earth did he want?

She debated for a moment, between taking the offensive or letting him run the show. She wasn't sure what he was after, and sometimes it was better to stay quiet and see. Lee, we really need to do something about all these people who keep taking me for something you've done. This is getting rather old.

She swallowed, and looked up into his eyes. Her voice tremulous, she quavered. "Why are you keeping me in this room, Abe?"

He stiffened at the sound of her voice, something about the implied fear seeming to settle whatever inner debate he'd had going. "I'm asking the questions, Miranda. Tell me about the meeting."

Her mind raced. Meeting? The only meeting Lee had been involved with recently was the stupid Abernathy fiasco... and she didn't know anything about it. Abernathy, when you get back, we are going to have a very long chat.

"Meeting? What meeting?" She played dumb, hoping for time and more information. Her brain raced as she flexed her fingers and toes, trying to keep circulation going. If she allowed her hands and feet to stay numb, it would be agony when he finally untied her. She sternly locked away the quiet voice in her head that queried, _When? How about if?_

"Don't play coy with me, Ms Keene. I know you were there, I know who you are. Now, tell me about the meeting!"

A foolish thought crossed her mind, _Apparently you don't know everything you think you know, buddy. Otherwise you'd be calling me by the right name._

She widened her eyes, and simply looked up at him, striving to appear innocent and helpless. "Please, I don't know anything about any meeting. I'm simply here to scout a location for a documentary. I told you that yesterday, remember?"

Markham drew his hand back and back-handed her. Fire shot through her face, and she could feel her cheek immediately begin to swell. Tears welled up in her eyes. Amanda mentally began telling her loved ones goodbye. Regret crossed her mind at missed opportunities... how she would never see her boys grow up, never again feel the touch of Lee's hand on her cheek.

"Don't lie to me. Tell me about the meeting!"

She wracked her brain, hunting for anything, something... anything to be moderately convincing. She had no idea why Lee was in Ireland, beyond needing to save Abernathy. She also had no clue what Abernathy had been up to over there to need saving. O, how she hated zero contact missions!

"Look, if you look in my purse, you'll find my badge from IFF. Call them, they'll tell you. I'm just scouting a location for a new documentary." Repeating herself again, she gave proof of different fudge and candy shops she'd been into yesterday afternoon. She talked about recipes, anything to keep him off-balance while she thought.

Halfway through her favorite fudge recipe, he completely lost patience. Balling up his fist, Markham struck the rambling woman in the solar plexus, forcing all the air from her lungs immediately. She fought for air, almost convulsing on the bed. Black dots filled her vision... and the last thing she heard was, "You will tell me what Gates and Jobs said. One way or another, you will tell me."

His captive lay there on the bed, pale and airless. Her chest wasn't moving. Damn! Had he killed Miranda Keene before he'd had a chance to learn what he needed to know? He stared at her unconscious form in a panic. "Dammit, dammit, dammit! F&*k! This isn't the way this is supposed to happen!"

There! Her chest moved! A sigh of relief escaped the blond man as he fought to get both his panic and fury under control. He had to go about this in a better way. He had to be calm. Losing his temper was only going to make her more stubborn.

He untied the woman quickly, using his roping skills in reverse. There... but he didn't dare leave her loose. Having no idea how long it would take her to come back, he knew he had to be prepared. She was wily, and far more calm about this than she should've been. The brunette was a classy dame, it really was too bad he was going to kill her.

Using the curtain tiebacks, he bound her arms together at the wrists. For her ankles he used the binder twine from before, fastening each to a post at the foot of the bed securely. Leaving her legs spread wide he smirked and pushed her blue skirt up to her thighs, maybe it would give her more to contemplate. He'd do anything it took to make her talk. No more nice guy. There was too much money at stake!

Stuffing the gag back in her mouth, he locked the room and hung a 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the knob before heading for his own. Knowles had delivered her luggage there; maybe there'd be something in her bags. All he'd managed to find in her purse was the typical female paraphernalia. Like every other woman, she carried the craziest things. He'd even found typewriter reels, for God's sake!

Tearing her bags apart, leaving her clothing scattered carelessly, he took a knife to the lining of her case. Nothing! Not one damn thing! Gathering delicate silk in his fists, he ripped her blouse apart to assuage his frustration. Ruby tatters fluttered to the floor as he left in search of Knowles.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"Ah, Mr. Markham, so nice to see you with us again. Is there anything I can do for you today, sir?" The desk clerk, one of Knowles' faceless minions, smiled cheerfully.

"Yes, is Knowles around? I wanted to double check a few things with him." Markham shifted his feet nervously, glancing about for the man in question.

"I believe he is in the dining room, sir. I'm sure he won't mind your joining him for lunch."

Nodding curtly, he turned abruptly on his heel and stalked into the restaurant as the phone rang. She answered, pulling up the correct screen on the computer for reservations. "Good afternoon, thank you for calling the Ojibwe. How may I help you?"

Her brow furrowed for a moment at the request, but dutifully keyed in the information. "No, I'm sorry sir. I am not showing a reservation for Miranda Keene. Perhaps she booked into a different hotel? Excuse me, did you say Room 23?"

*/*

Once again, she opened her eyes slowly. Gagged again, but at least she wasn't hogtied anymore! The pieces suddenly fell into place. She understood now what her captor wanted... and she also knew as soon as he got it, he'd have no further use for her. She thought quickly, trying to order her thoughts.

Markham wanted the details of the computer summit – so did the President. One held her life in his hands; the other signed her paychecks and had given her a lovely certificate of valor. It was no contest. Markham would have to kill her to get the information he wanted.

With Lee being such a hot commodity to their enemies, it was pretty much predestined for her to be taken captive again. Keeping this thought in mind, Leatherneck was slowly making adjustments to her common possessions. Amanda remembered the alterations the big man had done to her wristwatch just last week. He teased her when he gave it back, but his message was sincere. _Thank you, Leatherneck! I will give you a big kiss the very next time I see you!_ _Kinda funny that the first time I use the new toys has nothing to do with Lee. It's been a while since someone's kidnapped me for being me. I'm not so sure I like the change._ He'd implanted a tiny jagged toothed razor blade into the back of it somehow, leaving a tiny catch for her to press to release it. He was using her as his guinea pig, but she didn't mind one bit. Unlike most of the counter-intelligence community, she liked having options beyond explosives and gunpowder.

Sliding her fingers carefully, she maneuvered her hands around enough to press the release. James Bond had nothing on their Leatherneck! It slid free with a quiet snick. It was barely the width of her pinkie finger, but it was better than nothing. She would be making baked goods for weeks but, if this worked, she wouldn't mind it for a second. Working at it carefully, she slowly managed to ease her hidden helper out of its tiny sheath.

Success! Her future was suddenly looking much brighter. Holding the blade against the nail of her index finger with the pad of her middle one, she winced from the contortions she needed to make to begin the long arduous journey towards freedom. She sawed carefully while going over what she knew.

Amanda bit her lip as she worked the tiny razor blade through her twisted ropes of cotton. She could feel them fraying, but it was taking forever. She didn't dare move her fingers any quicker as it would be too easy to slice into her flesh by mistake.

The first order of business, logically, was to get free. From there she could figure out her next move, provided she had the time. Everything depended on how long it took Markham to return to her prison. She had no idea how long he'd been gone, but she did know she'd definitely missed her plane. She gratefully allowed the anger and disappointment over missing tonight's concert to push aside her cloying fear. Anger she could work with... Lee had taught her that. Lee had taught her many things over the years.

Tugging on her wrists, she felt the strands of cotton break. Her hands were free! Now to untie her ankles. Using her stomach muscles, she tried to sit up and immediately lost her breath. Nausea roiled through her gut and her gag reflex kicked in. She'd forgotten about the stupid gag! She tore at it frantically, knowing she could drown if the acid in her stomach reached her lungs before she got it out of the way. Battling nausea, numb fingers, and floating vision she struggled with the tight knot at the back of her head.

Tears watered her eyes. He'd knotted her hair into the gag. For an inexperienced bad guy, he was surprisingly talented. She would need to remember not to underestimate him. She swallowed several times, forcing the burning bile back into her stomach. He would not win!

She'd lost the razor blade when she tried to sit up. Forcing her trembling fingers to work, she had to deliberately slow her actions for a moment. She was panting, which only served to make the dizziness worse. If she passed out again, everything would be for naught.

Battered and bruised, Amanda finally managed to work a single fingertip into the tight knot. She sacrificed a thick hank of hair without a second thought, and worked through the pain. She would have time to mourn her losses later... after she managed to get away. Right now, she needed to focus.

Victory was again in her grasp! The knots loosened enough to slide another finger in, even though the taut material dug cruelly into the sides of her mouth. She pulled ruthlessly, fighting to free herself. Markham would kill her, he had no choice. She knew far too much for him to dare leave her free.

She tore the gag away, and just lay there for a moment, gasping in the sweetest air she had ever tasted. Somehow, this was the worst kidnapping experience she'd ever had... and that was saying something! Every time before she'd been treated like a precious commodity. Markham didn't need to keep her healthy to display on live television for the free world to watch in horror. He obviously preferred to keep his tortures private. Not if she could help it!

It took a few minutes, but her heart eventually quit racing. The dizziness abated with the fresh influx of oxygen, which gave her an additional leg up. She would need every advantage she could scrounge as getting her legs free presented a new paradox.

Using her arms and walking her hands slowly, she managed to slowly sit up. Wow that hurt! She wondered briefly if he'd broken a rib or two when he hit her the last time. Probably most definitely cracked at the very least. She'd have to be even more careful than she realized. A punctured lung would end this game long before it had really even begun.

Using one hand, she dragged a pillow down to the small of her back for some support. She was tied to a queen sized bed, her legs spread wide. Definitely not going to be easy to manage. "Think, Amanda, think! What would Lee do?"

She laughed almost wildly. Lee would never be stupid enough to be in this situation. No one got the drop on the Scarecrow twice. She bit down on her lip contemplating her situation, her right hand reaching unconsciously for the delicate heart dangling on a thin chain. She worried the necklace, wracking her brain for solutions. There had to be a way. It would be too humiliating to die at the hands of a computer repairman!

She wiggled her ankles experimentally, then winced as the coarse rope dug into her skin. OK, that wasn't a solution. She was going to have to lean forward, there was simply no other option.

Steeling herself against the pain and nausea, Amanda slowly leaned towards her right ankle. On her way forward, the tiny razor poked against her stomach, scratching against her skin. There it was! A small sense of triumph filled her heart as she clutched the tiny saving grace tightly. She might still make it out alive.

Markham was going to pay dearly for making her miss Maestro Pavarotti!

Gasping as her abused body rebelled the exercise, the determined brunette attacked the thin rope. She noted with some concern the fact her feet were almost bloodless. Walking wasn't going to be very much fun. However, she'd only be walking if she managed to get out of these darn ropes!

At last it broke. She drew her leg up and carefully scooched her bottom along the bed. She was running out of time. He could be back any minute.

*/*

Immediately spying Knowles at a table, he checked his stride. It wouldn't do to display his nervousness to the concierge or the patrons. He smoothed his expression and settled into a chair at the same table. An attentive waiter was hovering at his elbow before he'd the chance to settle a napkin across his knees. Opting for an affable smile, he glanced at the menu and ordered the most expensive dish with a lovely bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon. He would break her, it was just a matter of time.

He dined sumptuously on filet mignon, red potatoes and chives, tiny buttery Brussels sprouts, and a lovely roll generously coated with lavender and oregano. Once he got the information out of the bitch, he could eat this way all the time... not just occasionally. He had a worried thought,_ I hope the card clears_, before snorting. _Doesn't matter, he'd charge it to Gates & Jobs. They could afford it!_

"Knowles, my compliments to the chef. Be sure to add this to their bill, won't you?" Markham nodded cheerfully. She was surely awake by now.

*/*

With a foul curse more normally heard from her partner, Amanda pushed the fear away. Thoughts of Markham were only distracting her. Reaching back, she retrieved the abandoned pillow and nestled it again at the small of her back. It wasn't much support, but it was far better than nothing. Her poor tormented body screamed in protest as she again leaned forward to saw at the final rope. She deliberately refused to think about the ominous creak she'd heard from her ribs.

When she got home, she was taking Francine up on those aerobics classes, too. She wasn't nearly as flexible as she needed to be. Although, aerobics was a lot of bouncing about and not so much about stretching. Hadn't she also said something about a new yogurt... no, that's not right, what was it? Yog... it was an odd word, kinda sounded like Yogi Bear. Yoga! That's what it was, yoga. Maybe she'd look into that, too.

The silly thoughts calmed her nerves. Gritting her teeth against the pins and needles in her right foot, she slid around until she was seated on the edge of the bed with her foot on the floor. She flexed her toes for a second before beginning the final attack. She listened warily for the door while she made short work of her chore. This one was much easier with the rest of her free. It took less than a minute, and she was tucking the invaluable contraband back into its hiding place on her wrist.

Resting for a moment, Amanda took stock of her situation. According to her watch, it was now 3 p.m. She'd missed her check-in. If they hadn't known before, the folks in DC definitely knew by now that she was in trouble. While she wasn't exactly a courier, she didn't have any official agent status either. She was unofficially Scarecrow's partner and actually merely his secretary. How ironic that the civilian auxiliary PTA mom had more field experience than most of the agents in Billy's bullpen.

Grasping the bed post, she eased herself to her feet. It wouldn't matter how much field experience she did or did not have if she didn't manage to save herself and bring in Markham. At the very least he'd be up for assault on a federal employee with criminal intent. She clung there, looking about the room for something with which to bind her sore ribs. Espying the lace valence on the window, she had an idea.

She dragged the desk chair over to the door and wedged it beneath the handle. Even if it meant his escape, she wouldn't allow him the drop on her again. She was fairly positive she wouldn't survive it. Then, crossing the room as quickly as she was able, she pulled the delicate curtain from the window. This would do nicely. She only needed a temporary fix, after all.

Returning to the bed, she carefully unbuttoned her blouse. Glancing down, she winced at the ugly bruise forming over her ribs. Small wonder she hurt so badly. Folding the curtain in half length-wise, she began to wrap it tightly around her ribcage. Not the perfect solution, but one which would work for the moment. She tucked the trailing edge as she stepped to the bathroom. There was probably a robe in there. Aha! She tugged the belt free and tied it over her makeshift bandage like a Japanese obi.

She looked in the mirror and gingerly touched her swollen face. It was probably very lucky for Markham that Lee wasn't here. Maybe Abernathy's little jaunt down the back streets of Dublin wasn't such a bad thing after all. How on earth was she going to explain the black eye to Mother and the boys? Hopefully she was healed up before Lee got home.

Testing the bandage, she took a slightly deep breath. It still hurt, but the support on her ribs helped a lot. It should hold until she could get to a doctor. Pausing only to get a glass of water, she sipped at it carefully. She didn't think anything was ruptured, but she still needed to be cautious. What she wouldn't do for some Tylenol right now!

As she retrieved her blouse, Amanda glanced at the phone. It didn't surprise her to see the cord was missing. Markham didn't miss a beat. After she'd fastened the last button, she pulled the chair from the door and placed it just out of range of the door. She picked up a lamp and settled in to wait. Markham had a few questions to answer.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Noticing a grease smudge on his tie, Markham stopped by his room to change. Miranda wasn't going anywhere. Leaving her tied up on the bed would give her more time to contemplate her position, which could only work in his favor. He whistled cheerfully for a moment.

Just as Markham was leaving his room, Knowles came rushing up. He was obviously in a panic. The man started gibbering away even before he was close enough for Markham to understand what he was saying. Unceremoniously, the concierge pushed his partner back into the room and slammed the door behind them.

"That woman isn't who she says she is. Or, rather, she is, but she isn't!"

"Breathe, man. Slow down. What are you talking about?"

"The phone. Cindy had a call while we were eating. Looking for the Keene woman."

Markham began to pace, glancing towards her bags. Maybe he needed to look again, he'd not been very thorough. Whirling on the hapless hotel employee, he grabbed him by the collar. "Who called? What did they say?"

"It was some film company in Washington DC. At least, that's how it started out. But, Cindy heard something in the background... she said it sounded like someone said something about National Security... and the Air Force! What have you gotten me into, Markham?"

Working a bit more carefully this time, Abe again sorted through Miranda Keene's luggage. He examined every pocket closely. He wasn't sure what she had to do with the Air Force, but she had been insisting on the film company bit all along. There was definitely something up.

"Relax, Marty. Just take it easy. We'll get it sorted out. What did your girl tell them?"

"That the Keene woman didn't have reservations here at all. But... she's starting to ask questions. Keene talked to her yesterday. She remembers her."

"So she remembers her, big deal. There's nothing in the computer, right?"

"Yeah... but the guy on the phone even knew her room number. Dammit, Abe, I don't want to go to jail over this!"

"No one's going to jail. What do they know? They only have a room number. Your computer records show she never checked in, right?"

"Yeah."

"So... computers don't lie. It's a film company, for God's sake! It's not like they're the cops or something. Miranda Keene will be long gone before anyone has a chance to connect us. God, Knowles, get yourself together!"

Knowles looked at Markham warily. He just knew things were going to go upside down on this. He had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. He should've told Markham to take a hike. "What are you going to do with her?"

"Don't you worry about it. She'll be taken care of."

The only thing Markham found in her pockets was a receipt from the confectionery. Next he went through the packages. He opened the boxes of fudge, finding nothing out of the ordinary. Exactly what was supposed to be there. It was a similar picture with the lace. He wadded up the delicate treasures Amanda had taken so much care to choose for the three very special women. With a snarl, he tossed the package back into the open case. The paper bag split, spilling its contents wantonly... and covering the one item which would clear up the mystery completely.

"C'mon, there's nothing in here! Get back to that desk and man the phones. We'll figure out something for Cindy later. Miranda Keene has some questions to answer."

*/*

When Knowles returned to the desk, that sick feeling amplified. It was George. Why now?

George was one of the local cops. There wasn't a great deal of crime on the island, but infrequently a police officer was needed. He was usually the one they called. A big guy, he had no problem hustling the occasional inebriated guests to their room to sleep it off. He had a good habit of looking the other way too, which had come in handy a few times. Marty wondered what it would take this time. The last one, when Prince had that party, had cost him 50-yard-line tickets to the Thanksgiving game at the Silverdome. Those hadn't been cheap.

"Afternoon, George. How's the weather?"

"Mr. Knowles, always nice to see you. Can I talk to you in private somewhere?"

"Of course, let's go in my office. Shall we?"

*/*

"Marty... something's going on. Did you know you have a missing guest?"

"Not that I'm aware of. No one's said anything at least. I usually know these things before you do. I'm the one who calls you, remember?"

"Yeah... my call came from D.C. And it's sounding pretty official."

"O?"

"Yeah, looking for some dame called Miranda Keene. Guy swears she called from Room 23 of the Ojibwe last night, and says he has the phone records to prove it."

"He... he does?" Marty's mind raced. Just who the hell was Miranda Keene, anyway?

*/*

Pulling the key from his pocket, Markham opened the door. His prize should be waiting on the bed for him, and he knew he didn't have much more time with her. "All right, bitch. You ready to start talking?"

Flexing his fingers as he walked through the door, the unsuspecting villain was shrouded with the heavy bed spread. Almost immediately, he felt his feet knocked from beneath him and he tumbled to the floor. The last words he heard were, "This is for making me miss Pavarotti!"

Everything went dark when the lamp crashed against his skull.

*/*

"George, we don't have anyone in Room 23. The woman never showed up. You can check the records."

"I dunno, Marty. This guy was awfully positive." George sucked his teeth for a moment, debating. Knowles was squirrelly, but still a decent guy. If there was something going on in his hotel, he really needed to know. "Marty, the Feds are the ones making the call."

Marty's face went paper white. "The Feds? Like the FBI?"

"Yeah... only scarier. They told me they have some of their people in the air now. They should be landing in a few hours, and then taking over from there."

"O my. We've never had a federal incident at the Ojibwe. We need to keep this really quiet."

"Son, it's out of my hands. They are on their way. Dude on the phone gave me a head's up too. Said to watch out for some jockey named Stetson. Says he has a real powerhouse left hook."

Knowles covered his face. He was too pretty to go to jail. He'd heard a lot of stories about what happened to pretty men after light's out.

*/*

Amanda stood back and wiped her hands on her skirt. As soon as she found her luggage, she was changing. She looked like the wrong end of a ragbag. Markham wasn't looking that great either. She grinned. She'd done it. Completely on her own. Too bad her head ached, because she really wanted to enjoy this moment of exhilaration. Lee would be so proud of her!

Markham was lying on the floor, wrapped in the spread. He wasn't going to be going anywhere any time soon. She put her Junior Trailblazer knots to work, wrapping the lamp cord around his blanket shroud. It had hurt, but there was no chance he was going to get away. Unlike him, she knew where to look for secret spy toys.

Lifting the key from the floor, she locked the door carefully and made her way down the hall. She knew she looked a fright, but quite frankly, she didn't give a darn! Mrs. King had saved herself. This should end all those whispers around the water cooler. Might even convince Billy to let her take Station One again. But.. not until her ribs had healed.

It didn't take long for her to reach the lobby. The hotel wasn't nearly as big as the exclusivity implied. She stood back for a moment, just leaning on the wall and resting. Adrenaline was fading fast, and she was discovering new little aches and pains she'd been too scared to notice before.

She wasn't very surprised to see a policeman leaving the manager's office. Billy had sent out the dogs, probably when she missed her flight in Saginaw. She wasn't offended by it either, this little fact-finding expedition had been a very close call. Closer, in some ways, than dealing with Sacker.

When she got home, there were going to be a few more conversations about training. As this week had proven, Lee wasn't always going to be around to save her. Amanda refused to be put off any more. Nor was she going to allow anyone to talk her out of classes with Leatherneck or Dr. Chow. She may not like guns, but there was more than one way to skin a cat. Which she'd more than proven on several occasions, thank you.

Finding the energy from somewhere, she carefully pushed off the wall and approached the desk. Their backs were to her. The concierge and clerk were pulling up some records on the computer. Taking a page from Lee's book, the brunette waited quietly, opting to listen instead. Maybe she'd find out more. This still wasn't resolved, even with Markham netted.

"See, George. I told you, Miranda Keene never checked in. Yes, she had a reservation for Monday, but she never arrived. Billing has already charged her credit card a cancellation fee. Room 23 has been empty all week."

"But... Mr. Knowles," Cindy's voice was hesitant. Her boss was prickly and never liked to be proven wrong. She knew she was risking her job, but she couldn't lie to the police!

"Mr. Knowles, Ms. Keene stopped by the desk yesterday to check her messages. She'd also had a package delivered from town. And, she said that she was in Room 23. Look for yourself, the key is missing."

Amanda cleared her throat softly. "Yes, I did. Mr. Knowles, you checked me in yourself, remember?"

The trio behind the desk spun around to look at the woman speaking. Cindy's eyes reflected shock at her bedraggled appearance, while Knowles simply looked ill. The policeman glanced at something in his hand, cocked his head to the side and looked grim. "Miranda Keene, I presume."

"Not exactly, officer. My name is Amanda King, and if you would come with me, I believe we have something to discuss in Room 48." Amanda knew her cover was blown, and didn't even bother to deny it. Eying Knowles closely, she knew he had something to do with the rest of this puzzle.

"Mr. Knowles, was it? Perhaps you should accompany us as well."

George wrapped a large hand around Knowles' bicep and tugged him around the counter to stand in front of the tall brunette. She looked like she'd been through a few wars. He looked at the picture again, and back to her face. She was definitely the one the Feds were looking for. Good ol' Marty wasn't looking so good, either. He had a feeling this was going to be an interesting story.

Marty Knowles just sagged in the officer's grip. It was over. Just looking at the secretary's bruised face turned his stomach. Markham had sworn she wouldn't be hurt. He apparently had lied about that too.

Leaving Cindy to man the desk and field questions from the curious guests, Amanda led the men slowly back to her prisoner. She had to rest briefly at the end of the hall. Maybe she'd bandaged herself too tightly. It wasn't very easy to breathe. She really needed to sit down somewhere when this was all said and done. A cup of tea wouldn't hurt either.

Her dilemma was plain and George was a gentleman. Coming up alongside her, he offered his free hand to the woman who had created so much havoc in his office today. He hadn't had this much excitement since Prince came to town a few years back!

Together, the trio soon found themselves at the door of Amanda's prison. With a tight smile, she opened the door and showed the men her captor flopping about on the floor liked a caught fish. If the situation hadn't been so serious, she might've laughed at the sight waiting for them.

Markham was rolling about, desperate to free himself before the bitch came back with help. Knowles would roll on him, no doubt in his mind. The weasel was too scared of getting caught. Damn she was good with these knots!

George placed his foot on the trailing edge of the blanket and drew his gun. "Freeze!"

*/*


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Amanda had insisted on retrieving her purse once Markham and Knowles were both secured. George hadn't quite understood, but he allowed it. She knew it was evidence, but it was _her _crime scene. She needed to make sure the reels were still secure. Crowing with triumph, she immediately slid them into her pocket. They wouldn't leave her person again until she hand delivered them to Crypto. At this moment they were more valuable than platinum.

After delivering Markham and Knowles to the island's tiny jail, George immediately escorted her to a small clinic. Three x rays later showed no breaks but her ribs were definitely cracked. She was under the doctor's very stern orders to take it easy for the next week. He wasn't the type to brook any resistance either. He had only released her after she promised she'd visit her own physician as soon as she got home. Even that didn't really make him happy, although he had been impressed with her makeshift bandage. When she'd left, he was deep in conversation with Dr. Kelford. It sounded like they were making fast friends.

She'd given her statements to the police and the doctor. The erstwhile partners in crime were cozily behind bars in St. Ignace, and she'd even had a spare second to place a call to her mother. Dotty was disappointed for Amanda, but had decided to take Mr. Garner to see the great Pavarotti. Even though it was last minute, she was positive he wouldn't mind.

She'd only had time to make a brief call to Billy from the police station. She'd left him on the phone with Chief McLaren, George's boss. The chief had needed to verify Amanda's identity since everything in her purse stated she was Miranda Keene. That conversation didn't seem to be quite as chummy. There had been some shouting going on as she'd walked out the door to escort her prisoners to the larger jail on the mainland. She'd be taking them back to D.C. with her in the morning.

Knowles had been eager to spill his part in the caper, hoping for a lighter sentence. It seemed that Gates' secretary had slipped when she made the reservations, and used his personal credit card. It hadn't taken much to figure out that Jobs was coming as well for the same three days. After a nice lunch with the local temp agency's secretary, Knowles had the complete picture. He'd mentioned it in passing to Markham when he'd come to work on the computer back at the beginning of April. The rest, as they say, was history.

Markham, on the other hand, hadn't been quite as forthcoming. He'd lawyered up as soon as he saw George's badge. They'd found some interesting things in his luggage though. Between the gun, the drugs, and the kidnapping, he'd not be going anywhere any time soon.

It was over. It was finally over. Amanda wearily glanced at her watch. Pavarotti had just taken the stage. She hoped Mother enjoyed the show.

'I won't cry. I'm not going to cry. It's only a concert, Amanda. It isn't the end of the world. He'll be back again.' Giving herself a bracing mental talk, the exhausted woman slumped carefully in the comfortable armchair. Missing out on this concert, particularly when Lee had gone to the trouble and expense to get them, was heart-breakingly ironic. Particularly since neither of them would be going. She had to quit thinking about it. There was no use in crying over spilled milk, or at least that was the adage.

Fielding had mentioned someone was flying up to look for her when she'd called from St. Ignace. She'd been planning on staying in a hotel there, but changed her mind after discovering she wouldn't be alone at the Ojibwe. For some crazy reason, she just didn't feel very safe here anymore.

She closed her eyes for a moment, looking for the energy to go back to Markham's room for her luggage. He'd made quite a mess of her stuff, and she was sure she'd have to replace a few things. Fortunately, and somewhat unbelievably, he didn't break Lee's figurine. Good thing, too, since she'd wrapped it carefully in the pages of the Gates-Jobs dossier. If he had discovered those papers, she really didn't think she'd be sitting where she was. The shock on his face when she revealed herself as a federal agent had been priceless!

That look alone almost made the bruises worth it. She could do her job, and this little milk run that wasn't proved it beyond a shadow of a doubt. Mrs. King was more than capable of standing on her own two feet. Lee would always be her partner, but she deserved respect in her own right.

According to Fred, the plane would be landing in just a few minutes. Amanda had decided it would probably be a bit more professional to be waiting for them in the lobby, rather than having them search her out in her room. Not to mention, if she got too comfortable the medication the doctor had given her would knock her right out. She wondered who was coming. Probably Francine. She seemed to take a certain devilish delight in Amanda's exploits even though the women were now friends.

The chair she sat in was partially blocked by a lush palm. She was grateful for the privacy the plant afforded. She'd already drawn far more attention to herself than she liked. It had taken a while to settle down the guests, and she was apparently some sort of a 15 second heroine. All she wanted to do was go home and nurse her wounds.

Two men burst through the front doors at a dead run. Not breaking stride, they sprinted across the lobby toward reception. The first skidded to a stop at the desk, reaching into his jacket. The second just sucked in air gratefully and leaned over, hugging his ribs. Even though he was obviously younger than his companion, he could barely keep up with the man.

"Federal agents. I demand to see the manager!" The older man flashed his badge under the wide blue eyes of the pretty young blonde behind the counter. Frustration and irritation twisted his face while he tapped his fingers impatiently. He looked tired, exhausted even. Stress had made deep grooves in what would normally be a very handsome face. He didn't even glance towards the wheezing Thornsworth; they would be talking later.

"Yes sir, I am in charge here. How may I help you?" Cindy's voice was competently professional. She was getting comfortable with the sight of badges now. It wasn't official yet, but the owner of the Ojibwe was coming within the week to turn the manager's office over to her very eager care. Mrs. King had personally given her a glowing recommendation.

"I need to see Room 23!"

Shaking her head, Amanda slowly regained her feet and approached the men quietly. Somehow, she should've known he would come. He always came... but then, that's what knights do. Just like cowboys in white hats, they ride in and save the day.

She stood behind him, just within arm's reach, and smiled at Cindy across the desk. Poor girl, she'd been through a whole lot today... with a field promotion to boot. The hotel owner had been quite impressed when Amanda had talked with him. Cindy didn't deserve the hassle Lee was preparing to give her. Waiting for him to finish flashing his badge, Amanda nodded her head kindly to the new concierge. She'd take it from here.

Cindy looked across the desk into the most amazing deep brown eyes she'd ever seen. Even marred by the ugly bruise, Amanda King took her breath away. She had a lot to learn from her heroine, but she'd already decided she knew what she wanted when she grew up. She wanted to be just like Amanda King. Talk about grace under fire! Not only had she managed to get away from Markham and his abuse, she'd also captured him single handed... and Knowles to boot! She was Diana Prince and Wonder Woman, only better because she was real. Not only was she real, she was nice! Just her smile was enough to calm even the flightiest of nerves. Yes, Cindy knew the person she wanted to be all right. She wanted to be just like Amanda King.

Lee's questions died on his lips. He didn't have time for this! This child was no more the hotel manager than he was. Amanda's missing, and all she wanted to do was stare all googly-eyed. He wanted to reach across the desk and shake the hero worship out of her eyes. Why did this always happen? Yeah, he knew he was attractive, but seriously?

His hand instinctively went for his gun when he felt a light tap on his right shoulder. He spun around, drawing it as he moved.

Resting one hand on her hip, the bruised and battered president of the 'Get Scarecrow' fan club smiled playfully at her hero. "Took ya long enough."


	10. Chapter 10

**Epilogue**

"A-man-da! We're going to be late!"

"Then why are we still standing here?" Mischief sparkled in her deep espresso eyes as Amanda reached up to adjust his bow tie. He took her breath away when he wore the tux and, devil that he was, he knew it too! Lee Stetson was too handsome – for_ her_ own good!

An appreciative light glowed in his hazel eyes as he drank in the sight of his lovely partner. She took his breath away. Stepping back, he just stared for a long moment. She was a vision in midnight blue. Her gown was cut high in the front, with clean lines. Three-quarter length sleeves were inlaid with black lace, giving teasing hints of her creamy flesh. A flowing handkerchief skirt draped gracefully around her calves, parting coyly as she moved to reveal a heart-stopping length of enticing thigh. Her grandmother's double strand of diamonds and pearls rested against her breasts while yet more flashed fire at her ears.

She turned regally, all signs of her injuries well healed. His fingers itched to trace the bare length of her delicate spine, framed exquisitely with more of the lace. He swallowed for a moment, and shoved down the primal urge to drag her off to the bedroom. Lee didn't remember the dress looking quite this good when it was hanging in his closet a few hours ago. He'd be beating admirers off with a stick! Maybe he'd better bring his gun after all.

Pressing a soft kiss at nape of her neck, he inhaled her bewitching scent of lilies. No one smelled like his Amanda. Across the room, he caught sight of their reflection in the mirror. He wanted to remember this moment forever. Her sparkling eyes smiled only for him. He still wasn't quite ready to make the next step. There were still too many unanswered questions in his past. Soon... He couldn't bear to wait much longer.

*/*

The ballroom glittered under the light of the crystal-laden chandelier. Jewels caught the light as women moved gracefully about, sparkling like a scene from a fantasy novel. The orchestra played softly in the back ground while dancing couples circled the smooth marble floor.

Here and there, trays of champagne and canapés moved about the room, enticing the occasional guest. Security stood at various strategic spots, well-hidden but always watching. A Presidential gala was the event of Washington's social season. Everyone who was anyone was sure to be there.

Scarecrow proudly escorted his Mrs. King into the crush. His palm rested intimately on the small of her back as he nodded to people he knew. Amanda smiled softly, pausing their entrance for a quiet conversation with Jeanie Melrose. Billy and Lee watched their ladies fondly. This is why they did what they did. Not for the parties themselves, but to make the world safe so parties like this were possible. The men exchanged a conspiratorial glance and knowing smiles. Amanda was in for a big surprise tonight.

Claiming a pair of glasses, the elegant couple resumed their stroll while sipping on champagne. A smoky soprano crooned a familiar song across the glamorous ballroom. She canted her head to look into his eyes, and smiled. He merely nodded, and placed the flutes on a nearby table. Without ever exchanging a word, he led her to the dance floor, hand in hand.

"This is nice. I love this song." Amanda rested her cheek against his shoulder for a moment, breathing in the musk of his cologne. He spun her adroitly, before drawing her back into his strong arms. The patented Stetson dimple flashed when dark eyes widened in surprise as he bent her back in a dip.

They danced slowly, lost in each other. Nothing existed but the enraptured pair and the music weaving its seductive truths about them. Surrounding couples nudged one another, looking on with knowing indulgence. Romance was in the air; there wasn't a person who didn't know Lee and Amanda were well and truly caught in its decadent embrace.

The song faded away, and Lee was rudely jarred from their reverie. Someone tapped him on the shoulder imperiously. He glanced over with resignation. He should've brought the gun. Instant recognition flared in his hazel eyes and he turned Amanda over, accepting the implied request with equanimity. This was probably the only man to whom he would willingly release his partner tonight.

Amanda's eyes were star-struck. Standing there, with his hand extended and a smile on his face was Maestro Luciano Pavarotti. Waiting to dance with her!

She stumbled a bit, honestly shocked to see her idol before her. Lee reached over with a gentle finger and closed her mouth. Drawing her slack hand to his lips, he pressed a soft kiss on her trembling fingers before releasing her with a proud smile. " Mrs. Amanda King, may I present Maestro Luciano Pavarotti."

"O my gosh!"

Lee, Billy, and Francine watched from a distance as they danced. A rich laugh boomed over the orchestra in apparent response to something Amanda said. The housewife and the Maestro, who would've ever guessed?

"Well Melrose, all's well that ends well. You have quite an agent there." A very familiar voice rasped behind the Agency's finest.

"Yes sir. Mrs. King is definitely an asset to the Agency."

"Think you can find a few more like her?"

Francine choked on her champagne while Lee smirked into his own. Billy simply answered truthfully, "Mr. President, Amanda King is truly one of a kind."

-*-*/*-*-

**Author's Notes:**

Some literary license has been taken with this tale. 'When You Say Nothing At All' was first recorded 2 years after this story takes place but, as the lyrics fit the feelings so well, I made it out to be a much older song. If you're not familiar with the song, you really need to look it up.

Obviously, Margaret Thatcher's grandchild was never mixed up with the IRA, much less Abernathy (who in turn was never the nephew of anyone politically important according to canon, favorite or otherwise). The Lilac Festival on Mackinac Island is a real event which takes place in the middle of June, and the Ojibwe does not in fact exist. Nor is her fictional concierge the accomplice to the kidnapping of a 'hapless housewife' from Arlington, VA. On the other hand, only Gates & Jobs know if they ever had a secret summit to discuss the future of technology.

The messy itinerary Amanda is faced with, however, is likely something very real. At the time, there were no major airports in close proximity to Mackinac Island and both of the mentioned Air Force bases were very much still in operation in the mid-to-late 80s. Further, Ronald Reagan was extremely concerned about the future implications of personal computing technology. Maybe Amanda's report is what got then-Senator Al Gore so interested in the information superhighway. Amanda's idea to take the carbon reels was a moment of pure genius I thieved from NCIS.

Nothing in canon states the engagement ring belonged to Jennifer Stetson, that it was also the one used during various 'marriage' plots, or even that Lee began carrying it unconsciously looking for the 'perfect moment'. No where in canon does it mention that Amanda King is passionate about Luciano Pavarotti, nor does he perform at the Kennedy Center on any Wednesday in May, 1986.


End file.
